by Avery Tingle

Created on: January 15, 2009   Last Updated: January 22, 2009

"Mom," Michael spoke warily, not taking his eyes from the jet-black creature five feet from him, "pleasejust stay there. Don't do anything."

He chanced a quick glance backwards to the wooden porch, where his mother stood in the open doorway. In the second he turned his head, the crouching demon hissed, and there was a violent scratching sound as the slake scurried towards him. Michael quickly whipped his head back to the demon, which froze in mid-step. In a predatory manner, it lowered its cobra-head, pulling the lenses away from the six eyes on its crown. It opened its mouth to an unnatural width, revealing hundreds of needle-like spiked teeth within. Even in the black, starless night, Michael could see the green gleaning as drooled venomous fluid to the ground before it.

Holding his home-made silver knife in his right hand defensively, Michael exhaled, pushing away his fear, lowering himself into a backstance. His arms were crossed protectively in front of him with his right arm out front, should the slake lunge.

There was a step behind him, and Michael's eyes widened; he didn't dare take his eyes from this creature, but he quickly shook his head. "Mom" he said quietly, fiercely,"Don't."

His mom's traditionally soft voice responded behind him, "Michael...that thing can kill you."

"No, it won't." Michael quickly returned, surprised at his own resolve, "But if you do what you're planningthey willkillyou."

His mother said nothing.

"Trust me, mom."

She took a step back. "Okay, Michael."

Michael braced himself, holding the knife close to his body and putting his other palm out in a threatening manner towards the slake. In response, the beast snaked its tri-forked, leathery tongue out of its mouth. Michael let his eyes lower to the slake's four legs, bent at the joint as if preparing to lunge.As long as I keep its legs from retractingI have a chance.

He had to admit that he enjoyed the rush, and he allowed himself a smirk; still in adolescence, he was about to take on one of Hell's most feared demons on his own.

Michael feinted left, making a quick stomping motion with his left foot. The slake flinched, and Michael dashed right. Hissing, the slake moved in unison with him, scurrying and circling left. It kept its eyes upon Michael, remaining in its hunched position, its back to his mother, who stayed in a ready position at the porch. Michael accepted a bleak truth;it's here forme...

This begged the questions; did Yin dispatch assassins to those who'd received invitations?

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